Nostalgia and Nightmares
by shippershape
Summary: Post Hunger Games. Katniss and Peeta are neighbours in the Victor's Village and both are dealing with the trauma they faced in the arena. Just as they begin to heal, an unexpected enemy threatens everything they fought for. Can they make it through alive, and will they be able to save their loved ones? My first fic, hope you like it! Please comment and review!
1. Chapter 1

My eyes fly open as a crash in the hallway jolts me awake.

"Mom? Prim?" I call out tentatively, sliding out of bed and creeping towards the door. Absently, I notice my shirt is soaked with sweat, all that's left of the nightmares. For once I don't remember them, and I can't help but be glad. They're always variations of the same, the arena filled with a mix of tributes, friends and family. Prim and my mother, Gale, Rue. Cato and Clove make regular terrifying appearances. It's exhausting.

There is no sound coming from the hallway now, and I can feel my hunter's instincts kicking in, though they are rarely used now. Slowly, tensed for battle, I ease open the door and peer out. An orange furball streaks between my legs, into my room. I let out a startled cry and tumble backwards onto the floor. Heart racing, I clutch my chest and scowl at the cat sitting contently on my bed.

"Stupid cat," I mutter. "You scared me half to death." As I get to my feet, I hear the patter of light feet and look up to see Prim hurrying towards me.

"Katniss! Are you alright?" She hovers beside me, concern creasing her forehead. I smile and smooth out her frown with my finger.

"Don't worry, I'm fine." As the traces of adrenaline leave my system, fatigue sets in and I stumble a little. I try to pass it off as a backwards step, but Prim sees through me.

"Nightmares?" She asks sympathetically. I sigh.

"No." Prim stares at me, unconvinced. "Well, yes. That's not what woke me, though. Buttercup broke something..." I swivel my head and survey the hall. An expensive ornamental bottle, one of many that came furnished with our house here in the victor's village, lays shattered on the floor. Prim bites her lip.

"Oh Katniss, I'm sorry." She means it too.

"I'm not. I always hated that bottle. Who needs so many dust catchers anyway?" I coax a smile from Prim, then slip my arm around her shoulder.

"Come on, I'll tuck you in." I walk her back to her room, and she climbs into bed. I pull the covers over her and kiss her forehead. "Goodnight, little duck."

"Goodnight." She closes her eyes and I turn out the light. As I'm walking back to my room, I glance out the window and catch a glimpse of a light on in Peeta's bedroom. His house, next to ours, is usually dark, especially in the middle of the night. I scan the room for him, but he doesn't seem to be there. Just then, I hear a knock at the door. I glance at the wall clock, it reads just past two in the morning. Who could possibly be here at this hour?

Out of habit, I swipe my hunting knife off the dresser and head down the stairs. I pause in front of the door, wishing we had a porch light. Through the window, all I can see is a tall dark shape, most likely male. I put my hand on the knob and swing open the door.

"Peeta?" I'm so surprised, I just stand there for a moment, while he peers behind me into the dark. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night." I try to sound irritated, but it just ends up sounding surprised.

"I heard you scream. And saw the lights on." He looks awkward standing there, in his pajamas. We haven't spoken much in the months that we've been home, he's been avoiding me, and I've never been one to know the right thing to say to set things right.

"Oh. It was just buttercup." I gesture vaguely in the direction of my bedroom, and trail off, watching him. His face has hints of stubble, something I had never noticed before. His has dark circles under his eyes and I realize he has been having the nightmares too. Of course he is.

"Oh. I'll just go, then." He turns to leave, but I find myself calling out.

"Wait. Peeta, would you like to come in for a minute?" I am exhausted, it's two o clock in the morning, and we aren't friends, not now. But for some reason I can't let him leave looking so sad. I feel an urge to throw my arms around him and hold him until some of the sadness leaves him, but I fold them behind my back. That wouldn't help anything.

Peeta looks at me for a moment, searchingly, as if he suspects me of some ulterior motive. Then he shrugs.

"Yeah, alright." His face is guarded, but not hostile, and I take this as a good sign. I step back to let him in, then lock the door behind him. He follows me up the stairs into my bedroom and sits in the armchair closest to the fireplace. I sit on the other one and we perch in silence for a moment.

"So," I finally say, breaking the silence, "how are you doing?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

As the fire crackles softly in the grate, I take in how much Peeta has changed. His eyes are downcast and full of pain. The dark shadows under his eyes match my own, and I wonder what he dreams of at night, which select terrors from the arena inhabit his subconscious. His ashy blonde hair has grown longer than ever, it falls into his eyes, and exaggerates the strong angles of his face. I catch my hand reaching to brush it away, and bite my lip. Everything has changed since we've been back.

"You have them too, don't you?" I jerk back to reality, and his words sink in.

"Have what?" I ask stupidly, distracted by the apathy in his voice. He's changed more than I ever suspected, and suddenly I feel a sense of overwhelming guilt. I should have been there for him, but I've been selfish. His family, after taking their share of his victor's riches, have all but abandoned him. He is all alone. I look down, shame coloring my cheeks.

"The nightmares." He looks right into my eyes, and for some reason he looks angry.

"Oh. I guess we shouldn't be surprised. That place-"

I stutter with the word arena, and bite my lip. It wasn't just an arena.

"It was a nightmare. It's always been one of mine." I admit this, though the truth is that I worried more about Prim being reaped than me. Funny, that I would be less likely to survive her Hunger Games than my own. The thought of having to watch her on the monitors in town makes my heart race, and I push the thought away.

I watch the anger in his eyes slowly subside, and wonder where it came from.

"Peeta..." As I mumble his name, I realize that the feelings I had in the arena never went away, not really. The truth is that I never dealt with them at all. All along I told myself it was an act, just our strategy to survive in a place we were almost guaranteed to die. I've been so distracted by being home and seeing Prim, and my mother, that the boy with the bread slipped through the cracks. We left things bitter and unresolved, and it's my fault.

"Katniss?" His voice is soft, and lacking its usual hollow edge.

"I'm so sorry." It tumbles from my lips, and as it does, I feel how true it is. As though I've finally admitted it to myself, the guilt rushes forward and coils in my stomach. Peeta looks surprised and leans in towards me.

"For what?" He sounds confused and somehow hopeful. I realize I don't know the answer to his question.

"For cutting you off when we got home. For being too selfish and stupid to realize you were going through the same things I am. For lying to you in the arena. For everything!" I throw my hands angrily in the air. I can't even look at him. For some reason I miss him more now than I ever did when we weren't speaking. He sits back in his chair and stares at me.

"Katniss, I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago. I can't exactly be angry at you for not loving me." He looks sad and he shakes his head. My chest starts to feel funny, and I rub absently at it, as though trying to relieve the pressure.

"I miss you." It's all I can offer him, and it's a far cry from what he asked me for all those weeks ago, but it's true. My hand finally reaches out to him, gently cupping the side of his face. My thumb traces the dark circle under his eye. Peeta lets out a sigh and his eyes flutter closed. Giving into my desperate need for some kind of comfort, I slide from my chair onto his lap and rest my head on his chest. It feels familiar, though where there was only skin and bone in the arena, his chest is muscular and warm.

His arms wind their way around me, and for some reason my eyes burn with tears. Soon, they are running down my face and dripping onto his arm. I want to apologize, and then I feel the moisture on my neck, and realize he is crying too. We sit there for a while, two broken children, until both of us fall asleep.

Sometime the next morning, I awake to the smell of bacon cooking. The smoky, salty smell has my mouth watering before I even place it. Vaguely, I note that my neck is sore and the blankets are much too warm. I reach to pull them down, and freeze when my finger touches flesh. I leap to my feet, and jolt Peeta awake in the process. Swinging, he follows my lead and stumbles out of the chair. Both breathing heavily from the adrenaline, we stop mid attack, and Peeta clutches his chest.

"Christ almighty Katniss, you scared the shit out of me!" He doesn't sound too mad, just winded.

Suddenly, a laugh gurgles out of my throat, and another follows until I'm lying on the floor, clutching my stomach. Peeta struggles with his annoyance at me, but eventually gives up and lets out a snort. Wiping his eyes, he chuckles along with me until something catches his attention in the doorway.

"Oh," The laughter disappears from his face, and even his hands seem to tense.

"Hi, Gale.


	3. Chapter 3

My head whips around and I see Gale standing in the doorway. He closes his mouth, as though it had fallen open in surprise.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I heard laughter and..." He trails off, but I know what he was going to say. I haven't laughed, not really, since I've been back. As he recovers from what appears to be shock, I sense his growing irritation. We never talked about what happened when I was away, my relationship with Peeta. Gale never brought it up, and I didn't know what I would say even if he did. We picked up where we left off, less the daily hunting trips, and our empty stomachs.

"Buttercup made a commotion last night, Peeta just came to check on me," I explain. I turn to Peeta, searching for a way to make the whole situation seem normal. It just feels wrong somehow, having both of them together.

"He stayed the night?!" Gale's sudden anger casts a shadow over his face, and his jaw is so tense I'm surprised he can speak at all.

"Is that a problem?" Peeta steps forward and I'm struck by just how tall he is. Though Gale has years on him, their glares meet evenly. The tension in the room rockets and I quickly step between them.

"Gale, it's not like that. Peeta, knock it off." My head swivels to give each of them a warning glance. I fold my arms over my chest , which is barely containing my rapidly beating heart. What is Gale's problem? Why does he care if Peeta spent the night? I scan his scowling profile and my heart sinks at the way he's reacting. As if Peeta is his rival. And there is only one thing they would ever be competing for.

Peeta steps backward and shrugs, though he never breaks his icy stare. Gale doesn't move. Cringing internally, I turn to Peeta.

"Peeta, would you give me a minute? I need to talk to Gale." He stares at me in disbelief.

"Are you serious? You want me to leave?" I think he has the wrong idea, the way his eyes flicker between Gale and I, but I can't correct him with Gale there.

"I just want to talk to him," I plead with my eyes for him to understand that it's not what he thinks. He grimaces, but grunts and heads towards the doorway.

"I'll see you around Katniss." He doesn't sound hopeful.

As soon as he's gone, Gale rounds on me. For a minute I expect him to yell at me, but he's silent. Not knowing where to start, I turn my back to him and stare out the window. The sun is just beginning to rise, and soon the mockingjays will be singing the Seam awake. I sigh, and face Gale.

"What the hell was that?" I don't sound as angry as I mean to. I just sound tired.

"What do you mean?" He raises his eyebrows, as though he hasn't any clue. Irritated, I step forwards and poke him in the chest.

"You know exactly what I mean! What right do you have to come into my house and embarrass me?!" I jab my finger deeper and he winces.

"Easy, Catnip, that's going to bruise." He grabs my hand and doesn't let go. "I just don't like the idea of you letting him into your house at night. What about Prim?" The judgemental tone to his voice has me flushing with anger.

"I'm not sure exactly what you're implying, but you better watch it." I snatch my hand away and drop into one of my armchairs. "I've already told you it wasn't like that. Peeta and I... it was an act, Gale." I don't know why I'm explaining myself to him, but somehow I know this needs to be resolved.

"Was it?" His voice is quiet, but I hear the real question underneath, and I know I can't evade it. I wonder, too late, if our friendship will survive, but the idea of losing Gale panics me and I block it out.

"In the beginning," I force myself to meet his eyes. "Now, I don't really know." I wish I could run from this conversation, bury these feelings, but the running is over now. I can see that this isn't enough for him, can see the questions in his eyes.

"What does that mean?" His voice has an edge I know very well.

"I don't know."

"Do you love him?!"

"I don't know."

"Do you love me?"

"I don't know!" I shout, and then blink. If he had asked me five minutes ago, I would have said no. Somehow he's created a question in my mind that wasn't there before. Do I love him? Before I can begin to question everything he means to me, he pulls me towards him and crushes his lips to mine. This is nothing like the kisses I shared with Peeta, this is raw passion, and it takes me by surprise. His arms pull me tighter and I react without thinking, throwing mine around his neck. As his hands slide lower down my back, my brain flickers back on.

"Wait-" I press my hands against his chest and shove, hard. He stumbles backwards, looking as surprised as I feel. My skin hums where his hands were, and the hole left where his body was fills with cold air. I cross my hands over my chest, where the evidence of my reaction to his kiss is poking through my thin nightshirt.

"Gale, we can't do this." I sound panicked and completely terrified. Probably because I am. Chest heaving, Gale reaches out, but I back away.

"Why not Katniss? Don't tell me you don't feel anything." He's right. The intensity in his voice pulls at something deep within my abdomen, and I feel an urge to wrap my arms around him and continue the kiss. But I don't.

"We just can't!" I feel moisture on my cheeks, and am horrified to discover I'm crying. I wipe angrily at the tears. I've never been so confused in my life. The memory of Peeta's arms around me flashes in my mind, and I can't help a groan. I sink back into the chair.

"It's him isn't it! Why can't you just admit it?" I bury my head in my hands.

"Go away." Muffled, but audible, my words hang in the air.

"Katniss-"

"Get out!" I raise my head and scream, suddenly unable to stand it, any of it. When he doesn't move, I grab the nearest object, another useless decorative bottle, and hurl it at his head. It misses, but barely, and he jumps for door. With one last look back, he disappears through it. Finally alone, I'm left to sort through my completely overwhelming thoughts.

Katniss, I wonder, what have you done?


End file.
